The Echo of Secrets: A Family Drama in the Bustling City
William Edwards and his wife Margaret travelled to Manchester to visit their daughter. Even as they stood at the entrance of the building where their Eleanor lived, William noticed how agitated his wife had become.
“Margaret, is something the matter?” he asked, studying her carefully.
“No, nothing. It’s just—we haven’t seen Eleanor in so long, that’s all,” Margaret tried to smile, but her voice trembled.
They made their way up to their daughter’s flat. William pressed the doorbell firmly. No one answered.
“Strange,” he muttered, glancing at his wife. He rang again.
The lock clicked, the door creaked open—and William froze, stunned by what he saw.
—
The father stood there, flushed with rage, his face burning. Margaret grabbed his arm, pleading, “William, calm down, please! Your blood pressure!”
But William jerked his arm away, his voice low and threatening. Eleanor, lingering in the doorway, felt a chill run down her spine—her father had never looked at her like that before.
“Let me go, Margaret! You should have held on tighter long ago—not to me, but to our daughter!”
“William, darling, please,” Margaret pleaded, her eyes darting between him and Eleanor.
Six months earlier, William had suffered a severe hypertension crisis. The doctors had strictly warned him against stress. Yet just yesterday, he had declared abruptly, “Pack your things, Margaret. I can’t sit idle any longer. Three months of excuses, and she hasn’t visited once. There’s more to this. You’re her mother—why have you said nothing?”
Margaret had stayed silent—not because she didn’t know, but because she knew too much. She and Eleanor had kept the truth hidden, hoping to smooth things over before confessing. They assumed he would be angry, but in time, all would be well. Now, though—what could she say? What could she do?
“She’s just exhausted, studying and working part-time. She promised to visit soon,” Margaret babbled, but William was already pulling on his coat.
He snatched his wallet, keys, phone—and took his wife’s mobile.
“And don’t you dare warn her! Am I her father or not? I saw how she fussed in front of the mirror last summer—turning this way and that, letting her hair down, tucking it behind her ear. But who for? She wouldn’t say. Something’s not right. We’re going to see her!”
On the train, Margaret tried to explain, but finally waved a hand in defeat.
“You rushed things. Eleanor wanted to tell you herself when everything was settled. She didn’t want to worry you—with your condition.”
“Enough about my condition!” William snapped. “I’m her father. I have a right to know what’s happening to my daughter. I’ve a bad feeling about this.”
“Fine. Ring the bell,” Margaret sighed, squeezing his hand.
The door didn’t open right away. Eleanor must have hesitated at the peephole—but finally, she let them in. She couldn’t leave her own parents on the doorstep.
“I knew it! Eleanor, who is he? Whose child is it? Why did you hide this from us?” William’s voice shook with fury and hurt.
He staggered onto the landing and slumped onto the steps, clutching his chest.
“Dad—why are you sitting out here? Come back inside!” Eleanor—her small bump evident—looked lost and helpless.
His girl, his pride, had left for university on a scholarship. And now—what now? William swallowed the lump in his throat. If he didn’t protect her, who would? He had to find this lad, talk to him, do *something*!
“Dad, I wanted to tell you later, when things were settled. But now—he was in an accident! He’s in hospital!” Eleanor burst into tears like a child.
William stood, dusted off his trousers, and suddenly grew calm. So what if there was a child? At least they were all alive. They’d manage—they’d been through worse.
Eleanor had been their miracle late in life. She’d been the smallest in her class but so serious—never fooling around, reading during breaks, always top marks. She got into university, worked part-time, shared a flat with friends. That summer, they’d visited William and Margaret in the countryside—nothing had seemed amiss…
“Margaret, did you know? And said nothing?” he asked his wife, instantly regretting his sharpness.
Margaret lowered her eyes. “William, you were ill. The doctors said you needed rest…”
“Fine. Let’s go inside, Eleanor. Tell us everything, start to finish.”
Their daughter explained how she’d met Liam. He worked at the same firm where she had her part-time job. He’d helped her, and soon they were seeing each other. Liam had spoken of marriage—but confessed he’d been married once. A rushed wedding out of school, pushed by their mothers, who were close friends. He and Julia, his ex, had been like family—but only as friends. They’d divorced when Julia fell for another man, though the paperwork dragged. Then Julia announced she was pregnant and wanted him back—her new man had left her.
“And you believe him? That the child isn’t his?” William demanded sternly.
“Yes, Dad, I do. Liam doesn’t lie. He’s been with me—she’s in another city. He went to talk to her, and the accident happened. But he’ll recover and come back—I’m sure of it!”
“Alright, don’t fret. Tell me his name, the town, his number.”
“Dad, please don’t—”
“I won’t harm him, not while he’s laid up in hospital. I just want words with the man. He’s the father of my grandchild, isn’t he? Might even be my future son-in-law.”
William wiped Eleanor’s tears and managed a smile.
“Remember our little rhyme? *Hush now, Eleanor dear, Daddy’s strong—no need for fear.*”
“I remember, Dad.” She smiled through her tears. “Here’s Liam’s number. Thank you.”
“I’m coming with you,” Margaret said at once.
“Fine. But I’ll speak to the lad alone. What if he’s spun lies? Or worse—a cad? I need answers. You’ll stay in touch, Margaret.”
Liam was indeed in a hospital in a small town near Manchester, freshly moved from intensive care. At the nurses’ station, William flashed an old ID.
“Major William Edwards, retired. May I speak with Liam Carter? Brief chat—Room Five? His ex-wife there? Not to worry, I won’t cause trouble.”
Inside, a pretty young woman sat beside Liam. William didn’t flinch.
“Hello. Liam Carter? I’m Eleanor’s father.”
Despite his weakness, Liam brightened at once.
“Mr. Edwards? This is Julia—my childhood friend and ex-wife. She gave me no end of grief. Fell for some bloke, he jilted her, and suddenly I was the better choice. Had to sort it out—then the accident. Lucky to be alive! I promised Eleanor everything would be fine, and she believes me!”
“And what of Julia’s child? Think I don’t know?” William scoffed.
“Julia made it up to get me there. There’s no child. We just filed the final papers. I love Eleanor, Mr. Edwards. I want to marry her. May I have your blessing?” Liam struggled to sit up.
“She’s right—I caused all this,” Julia cut in.
“What a mess you’ve made,” William sighed.
“I’ll prove I’m worthy of her. I’ll fix everything!” Liam said firmly.
“We’ll see. If not, we’ll raise the child ourselves—and I’ll deal with you once you’re back on your feet,” William said, turning to leave.
“Thank you, Mr. Edwards! I won’t let you down!”
Liam kept his word. Before the birth, he and Eleanor married. From the maternity ward, he carried his wife and newborn daughter home—as a husband and father should.
“Your dad will make a brilliant grandad. Ought to give him a grandson next,” Liam whispered as he cradled the baby. “He trusted me—I won’t fail him. What matters is we’re together.”
William stepped forward, hand outstretched.
“Well then, son—congratulations.”
“And to you, Mr. Edwards—on your granddaughter. Thank you, for Eleanor, for everything.”
“Be happy, both of you,” William smiled. “When our children are well, so are we.”
